


Something To Do With Your Hands

by cathema



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathema/pseuds/cathema
Summary: There were many known facts about Logan, one of which was that he was incapable of emotion—that is, in a romantic sense. He can feel embarrassment, he can feel frustration, he can even feel hurt. But he could not feel love.But one thing he did enjoy, which he'd come to realize one day, is that he liked to be touched—not just by anyone, but by the only person who understood him, respected him, and was as averse to romantic emotions as he was.And that was precisely why he allowed himself to be rendered helpless and exposed in the arms of Janus in the dead of night because, no matter what happened between them, neither would make the mistake of falling in love with the other.
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 17
Kudos: 121





	Something To Do With Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I never considered pairing these two together until I dreamt of them one night. So, here's the result of my needing to get the tension out. Just a short and sweet fic that I hope you'd enjoy. <3

There were many known facts about Logan, one of which was that he was incapable of emotion—that is, in a romantic sense. He can feel embarrassment, he can feel frustration, he can even feel hurt. But he could not feel love.

While Patton would gush and Roman would sing verses about a blossoming crush, Logan would watch from the stands—silently observing, secretly judging.

It was there when it happened. An area in the mindscape had transformed into a lush garden that bloomed flowers infinitely as Patton and Roman glowed in deep affection over the newest apple of Thomas’ eye.

Logan had been watching them from the terrace of his room, a safe distance from the commotion he could not understand.

“I wouldn’t want to be down there either,” said a voice from behind him.

He turned his head and saw Janus leaning forward on the railing, looking down with amusement at the ethereal garden. “These fools are precisely the reason why Thomas is so quick to fall head over heels over someone he just met,” he remarked.

“Well, nothing I do ever matters in that situation,” Logan mused. “Once Thomas is in love, no amount of logic could ever contend with the yearnings of the heart.”

“Meanwhile, I’m left to work double-time.” Janus flashed a smirk towards Logan. “How _thoughtful_ of you.”

Logan turned away quickly. Janus’s eyes have never failed to unsettle him, not because they were mismatched but because they always looked like they were seeing right into your soul, even though Logan was definitely cognizant of the fact that it was physically impossible to do so.

Janus propped his chin on the palm of his hand. “ _Amazing_ just how much emotion these two are capable of.”

“I would never understand it, personally.”

“You don’t or you won’t?”

Logan hummed in thought. “Both, perhaps. Love is too complex a concept to grasp. I’d rather not tire myself in a feeble attempt to discover how and why it can turn anyone into—“

Roman’s loud soliloquy abruptly interrupted Logan mid-sentence, which made the latter sigh in frustration. “—into _that_.”

Janus chuckled. “I’m glad to find that we’re in agreement.”

Logan gave his companion a sidelong glance. Despite his initial apprehension to have Deceit exist among them as a significant part of Thomas’ personality, he was actually relieved to now have someone to engage with on intellectual discussions without it ending in screams, insults, and hurt feelings. Although the two have yet to face each other head-on in a debate, Logan has watched Janus eloquently construct his arguments and is, to put it simply, quite impressed by him—not like Logan would ever admit it to the slimy snake.

Logan’s thoughts were interrupted by Janus suddenly leaning close to him with a mischievous grin. “Want to see something funny?”

Logan quirked an eyebrow. Janus handed him his cane, lifting the other end so it pointed away from Logan’s body and towards a large tree.

The next thing he did took Logan completely by surprise. With his left hand still holding the end of the cane, Janus placed his right hand on Logan’s right shoulder and leaned so close that his chest pressed against Logan’s broad back.

For some reason, Logan could feel his heart race and temperature rise as Janus moved against his body to fix the cane‘s aim at a certain spot on the tree towering over Roman.

“Okay,” Janus whispered, his breath tickling the crook of Logan’s shoulder. “Pull it.”

“...huh?”

Janus turned his head slightly to brush his lips against Logan’s warm earlobe. “Pull the handle.”

Logan gulped and did as told, and he restrained himself from yelping in surprise when the cane suddenly shot out a sharp blast that materialized into Remus who then landed ungracefully on top of his twin brother.

Janus cackled, watching in pure delight as the deranged Duke chased the distraught Prince around the garden with his morningstar while Patton watched with fear and amusement. Logan took notice that Janus still hadn’t moved from his position.

“That wasn’t very funny,” Logan murmured.

“For you, perhaps. But...” Janus grazed his nose on Logan’s cheek. “...I quite like the idea of having learned something interesting about you today.”

Logan wanted to melt.

“I’ll see you around, Logan.”

And, suddenly, he was gone.

One true thing about Janus was that he was a liar.

Logan was reminded of this when, nearly a week since the incident, he saw no trace of Janus at all in the mindscape. Other than the fact that Thomas hadn’t called him out for the usual living room discussions, Janus hadn’t popped up randomly in any of the other sides’ rooms like he was known to do.

Logan tapped his pen on the table, feeling quite antsy and peeved for actually _wanting_ to see Janus again, despite what had happened. (Or was it _because_ it happened that he wanted to see him?)

Logan cared not about love and romance. But, for some strange reason, he let himself be swooned by the touch of the Lord of the Lies.

In bed, he felt the ghost of Janus’s hands, chest, lips, and breath all over his body, and it electrified him. He considered that perhaps it was because it was the first time anyone had ever been _that_ dangerously close to him. He also had yet to consider Janus as “family” that a familial bond like he shared with Roman, Patton, and Virgil had yet to exist between them.

In short, Logan found himself regarding Janus as an entity that, defying all logic, he’d like to fall at the feet of and beg to be touched by again.

On the eighth night since seeing Janus, Logan swallowed his pride and appeared unannounced at Janus's room. He looked around desperately, snaking past vintage furniture, record boxes, and different trinkets scattered all over the floor. Janus was nowhere to be found.

With a grunt, Logan returned to his room and dropped himself facedown on his bed. _What am I doing?_ he yelled in his head. He couldn’t believe how much he’s let himself obsess over the physical intimacy of a man who probably did it just to spite him.

He’s such a fool and an embarrassing mess, and he’d be caught dead if any of the others found him in this sorry state. But before he could even sit up, a cold hand suddenly planted itself on his lower back.

Logan froze, waiting for the mysterious hand’s next move. Slowly, it moved up towards his shoulder blade and was joined by the other hand, which began to massage Logan’s tense muscles.

He melted to the touch, sighing in relief as the hands squeezed and caressed every part of his back. And when the hands lifted his shirt to expose his pale skin, he bit back a moan he never expected himself to ever make.

Fingers grazed lightly against his warm skin as they traced circles and shapes along his spine. Logan gripped his sheets as he said, through gritted teeth, “Where have you been?”

“Around.”

“Falsehood.”

“You’re so warm, Logan.”

“Your hands are cold.”

Janus hummed in consideration. “Would you rather I use my mouth instead?”

Logan swallowed hard. “Do what you like.”

Janus lifted both his hands off Logan’s back and placed them on opposite corners of the bed as he lowered his body to lean his head close to Logan’s red face. “You fascinate me,” Janus teased. “I would never have expected you to subject yourself to this embarrassing position.”

Logan huffed. “I never would have either.”

“And to want to do it with me?” Janus whispered close to Logan’s ear. “I’m flattered.”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“Self-denial doesn’t suit you, Logan.” He chuckled. “On the contrary, it has everything to do with me. I’m the only side who’s just like you—functioning on logic, frustrated with abstract concepts like ‘love’ and ‘friendship,’ choosing to distance ourselves from overwhelming displays of emotion. Doesn’t it make perfect sense to you?”

Logan gulped. “I feel like you’re baiting me to admit this situation is perfectly rational following your reasoning.”

“Which is?”

Logan turned around to face his body towards Janus, who was towering over him with a sly grin. “That we can do this without fear or consequence of developing feelings for one another.”

Janus’s yellow pupil glistened as the moonlight shone through the window and silvered the dark room. “Is it up for debate?”

Logan closed his eyes. “No.” And he pulled Janus down for a deep and heated kiss.

Another known fact about Logan was that he was good at keeping secrets. His _own_ secrets, that is. It was hardly difficult for him to withhold himself from tensing up around Janus who had now been popping up more frequently around Thomas and the mindspace. (Of course, he did make the mistake of staring at Janus’s lips with a dazed expression once. Fortunately, no one noticed.)

Janus, however, was good at finding out secrets. In just a few nights, he’s learned that the spot behind Logan’s ear elicited the loudest moan, the crook of his neck made him curse, and the small of his back made him beg.

Janus enjoyed uncovering each and everyone as he kissed, licked, and sucked every part of Logan’s body. And Logan, though he’ll never admit it out loud, found thrill in being rendered helpless and exposed in the process.

“Shh,” Janus hissed as he bit down on Logan’s throat, “they’ll hear you.”

Logan panted loudly, writhing as Janus slid himself in and out and in again—slowly, teasing—until Logan dug his nails on Janus’s waist as a plea to quicken the pace—and that’s when he unravels, becomes undone, and loses himself to the sensation of dying and being alive at once.

Logan would always come first, throwing his head back to groan as a white mass pooled on his stomach. Janus would come shortly after, always electrified by the sight of Logan’s erotic display of ecstasy.

And they’d lie there without a word, side by side, drenched in sweat, spit, and fluid until Logan eventually drifted off to sleep.

Janus would always be gone by the morning.

To say that he’s lost count of the times he and Janus engaged in their secret rendezvous would be a falsehood; Logan can confidently say that they’ve done it a total of 37 evenings—each one just as exhilarating as the last.

It’s become routine for them both to seek each other’s physical comfort when bored, when angry, when sad, when lonely.

Naturally, the other sides began to take notice of their growing closeness, though they did not read too much into it. Patton even expressed joy over the two becoming “best buddies” while Roman taunted them as the “nerd squad.”

The only one who felt any suspicion was Virgil, who often voiced out his disapproval of Janus hanging around Logan too much.

“Stop bothering him, you creep,” Virgil would sneer at Janus, who would then snake an arm around his shoulders and say, “Oh, Virgil, I _never_ took you for the jealous type.”

“Jealous isn’t the word I’d use,” he’d respond. “More like disgusted.”

“On the contrary, I’m hardly bothered at all,” Logan would say in defense.

“Hear that, Virge?” Janus would taunt. “Logan doesn’t lie.”

No, Logan never lies. He says what it is. That’s what Janus liked about him. He didn’t ever need to tread lightly because Logan would tell him if he ever stepped out of bounds.

“Like this?”

“More.”

“Right here?”

“Please.”

“Feels good?”

“ _Fuck_ _yes_.”

Logan had an answer for everything, knew exactly what he wanted, and trusted Janus enough to ensure those needs were met. And it’s precisely why they were able to keep this up for this long.

“Your freckles look like constellations,” Janus mused one night as he traced the subtle marks on Logan’s bare back.

Logan looked at him—his disheveled hair, mismatched eyes, and impeccable scales—in an attempt to search for meaning behind his sudden observation. “Do they?” he said instead.

Janus carefully pointed them out. “Cassiopeia... Hercules... Cepheus... Libra...”

Logan squinted his eyes. “It seems highly unlikely to have all of those in different areas of my back.”

Janus grinned at that. “It’s always a gamble to believe me or not, isn’t it?”

“You’re Deceit. It’s in our nature to doubt you.”

“And if I told you that you’re beautiful? Would you doubt me then?”

Logan stared at him in stunned silence. He felt his heart swell a bit, moved by the sincerity that was apparent in Janus’s voice. Logan wasn’t used to receiving compliments; he had always felt overlooked and seen right through. But there he was, being gazed at with full, undivided attention—the way he’d always wished the others looked at him.

Janus definitely was good at finding Logan’s secrets.

“Beauty is subjective,” he said quietly in reply, though he really was unsure of what to say.

Then, he added, “I find you quite beautiful as well.”

Janus said nothing and kept his eyes locked on Logan’s. “Hm,” he eventually mused, “beauty really is subjective.”

He rolled over and nestled his head against the pillow, the way he always did at the end of the night. Logan had become familiar with the marks and blemishes on his back, wondering if his looked the same way.

Perhaps it did. Perhaps there were no constellations at all. After all, it is in his nature to doubt Deceit. But not once did Logan ever take a look at the mirror to check.

Of course, it wasn’t always well between them.

With Janus being a dark side, he couldn’t help but butt heads with the rest of the sides when it came to situations involving Thomas’s moral compass. Logan, as always, was as neutral as he tried to be, though everyone else made the mistake of assuming he agreed with them more.

Admittedly, the debates have been more constructive since the April Wedding and the others were now more open to considering Janus’s thoughts and reaching a compromise. But Janus was still known to connive and manipulate arguments for his favor and thus ended up being banished from the conversation anyway.

Janus hardly took it to heart; Patton had made Thomas become too selfless a person that unlearning that certain things he was brought up thinking were wrong would take much longer time than Janus would have wanted. But there were times when Janus couldn’t accept defeat, especially when he knew he was right.

“How _fine and dandy_ this all is,” he would laugh with derision. “But who am I, little ol’ Deceit, to change your mind? After all...” he flashed a bitter look at Logan, “...it’s your nature to doubt me.” And he would sink out even before anyone could ever get a word in.

It was always Patton who apologized to Janus first. Logan was aware that the two had also formed a bond over the months, with Janus being Patton’s confidant in trying to healthily process his repressed emotions.

Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Either way, Logan checked on him next and, that day, he found him out in the garden under the moonlight.

As he approached, Janus asked him, “If you could go wherever you wanted to, where would you go?”

“Anywhere in the world?”

“ _No_ , in Florida.”

Logan gave it a thought. There was the NASA Headquarters, the Roque de Los Muchachos Observatory, the Crofter’s Organic production facility, and so many other places that he could only wish Thomas would be able to visit in his lifetime. But right now...

“Have you heard of the Salar de Uyuni?” he said. “It’s a salt flat in Bolivia.”

“Sounds like the perfect place for you.”

He rolled his eyes and, waving his hand, transported them both to Logan’s imagined version of the location in the mindspace. Stumbling a bit on their feet (Logan was still not adept at summons and transports), they gazed at the sight before them—an expansive stretch of a thick crust of salt blanketed with water that transformed it into a reflective canvas.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

“What a _horrible_ view,” Janus mumbled in awe.

“When you look at the horizon, you can’t make out where the sky ends and where it begins.” Logan waved his hand again to change the time to sunset, surrounding them with orange and purple colors.

He watched Janus take it all in, suppressing his own excitement to showcase his favorite scene, the starry night sky. With one last wave of his hand, evening fell and they floated in between the world above and the world below, among the stars and the planets and the brilliant galaxy.

“It’s almost magical to know that there is a location in this world where you can feel that you’ve reached someplace beyond the universe,” he gushed. “As if you’re anywhere and nowhere at once. A close visual representation of infinity stretching out before you. And it makes you realize just how minute you are in the grandest scheme of things.”

Janus turned to look at him and Logan was captivated by his eyes that reflected the effulgence of the cosmos. Conscious that he may have been staring for far too long, he looked away, unaware that Janus may have been seeing the same thing on his own eyes.

“Logan, do you ever get tired of being so smart all the time?” Janus finally said.

Logan huffed. “What do I answer to that?”

Janus shook his head with a smile. “This place makes me _sick_.”

A comet shot by in the far-off distance.

On the morning of the 63rd evening, Logan awoke to Janus still in his room wearing a black robe and holding a glass of wine by the window. He was softly humming along to a song Logan could not place (on account of his aversion to music in general) as he gazed at the clouds.

From where Logan saw him, Janus didn’t look like himself at all. He was, for a moment, the spitting image of Thomas—only with slicked-back hair and tired eyes. Logan realized that this was the first time he was seeing Janus without the layers he’s been putting on, figuratively and literally, in broad daylight, and Janus was allowing him to see it.

“Are you going to chide me for drinking wine in the morning?” Janus quipped, before turning his head to look at Logan.

“Actually, studies have found that consuming wine after waking can be beneficial to your overall health,” Logan replied.

“How _unfortunate_.”

Logan kept his eyes on him. “Forgive me for staring, but you never stay over.”

Janus shrugged. “I like being unpredictable.”

Logan wondered if there was something Janus wasn’t telling him. But, then again, when has he ever _not_ withheld things?

So he decided not to pry, getting off his bed to walk over to Janus’s spot and join him in greeting the morning sun outside his window.

“You could use a plant or two for your room,” Janus suggested. “It’s just _oh so_ lively in here.”

Logan thought about it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Janus raised his glass up to his lips. “You’re _oodles_ of fun, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You always take me seriously.”

Logan was sure that Janus had meant it to sound sarcastic, but it hardly sounded like he was complaining.

It soon dawned on Logan that he depended on Janus’s intimacy to regain any dignity and self-worth he had lost after a tough day. It was the only way he could ever feel safe and secure and comforted, the only way he could prove to himself that he still mattered.

Logan was used to being ignored and brushed aside, but it hurt him all the same. He knew better than to blame Thomas for being an emotional person. There was nothing else he could do but to accept it.

He appeared in Janus’s room and found him seated amongst a disarrayed heap of books by the fireplace. His vintage music player hummed a familiar song softly in the background.

“I can never find what I’m looking for when I’m looking for it,” muttered Janus as he flung one book after another across the floor.

Logan grimaced at the sight of Janus’s unkempt belongings. “What is it?”

“It’s, uh, black and thick and leather-bound...” A bead of sweat rolled down Janus’s forehead.

From the corner of his eye, Logan spotted something sticking out under a chair and dutifully retrieved it. “Is it this one?” He held up a thin, pink book titled ‘Skin Care Secrets.’

“No!” Janus snatched it away from his hands. “That’s _not_ it at all.”

Logan sat down next to him as he hurriedly set the book somewhere that Logan was sure Janus was going to forget again soon. He watched the fire dance, casting shadows on the floor that moved along to the crackle of wood and the melody of Janus’s song.

“What’s wrong?” Janus eventually asked.

Logan didn’t know how to answer that.

Janus scooted close and asked again, “Did something happen?”

With a resigned sigh, Logan nodded.

“I _don’t_ really care to know, then.” Silence. “Sorry, force of habit. You know you could tell me, Logan.”

Logan knew. But he didn’t want to talk about it. The last thing he wanted was for Janus to see him as pathetic and pitiful. Instead, he glanced at Janus and said, “Just kiss me.”

Janus knitted his brows. “Lo—“

Logan didn’t let him finish. He raised a hand to cup Janus’s face and guide it towards his own, pressing their lips together softly, timidly, before Janus moved to deepen it.

Logan felt nothing in his heart for Janus. He didn’t swoon nor sigh for him; only seeking his company knowing that there was nobody else to go to. Logan has cuddled with Patton, has been bridal-carried against his will by Roman, and has even allowed Virgil to rest his head on his shoulder during an afternoon nap. They were family, and they meant more to Logan than anyone else.

And yet... why is it that Janus felt more like home?

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead on the crook of Janus’s neck, inhaling the scent of old pages and laundry soap.

“You were singing this the other day,” he whispered. “I like it. This line, too... ‘When I don't feel beautiful or stable, maybe it's enough to just be where we are.’”

Janus gently caressed Logan’s hair. “Thomas does love you, you know.”

“Love...” he echoed. He didn’t know what it meant, didn’t know what it felt like. But if it felt anything like this, then maybe he could convince himself to believe it.

He closed his eyes. “Janus?”

“Hm?”

“We need to clean your room.”

“It’s perfectly _fine_.”

“Falsehood.”

“It’s cozy this way.”

“Is this why you’re staying in my bed all the time?”

“Is my room the reason why I purposely choose to come to you, have sex, and fall asleep with you in my arms every night?” Janus grinned teasingly. “Of _course_ it is.”

Logan sighed, burying his face on the other’s neck. “I want you.”

“What was that?”

He pulled Janus into a tight embrace. “I want you.”

“Well, that can be arranged.” And with a wave of a hand, Janus stripped themselves off their clothing and fell unto Logan’s bed.

There were nights when they decided not to be a messy mass of limbs and sweat. When they would sit shoulder to shoulder reading their books in comfortable silence while Janus’s music, which Logan grew to appreciate, played from the new portable speaker he acquired in his room, next to a new desk plant. Janus swore he _loathed_ the wretched thing but Logan could see him tapping his foot absentmindedly to the beat on the edge of the bed.

Other times, they would play chess, scrabble, and crossword puzzles together until Logan realizes it’s all been rigged to let Janus win every time.

Then, there were nights when they would just talk—exchanging ideas, debating on topics, musing on the world’s greatest mysteries.

But it is on all of them when they would rest upon each other’s chests, still and at peace, until the dawn of a new day came.

For the first time in years, Logan felt happy to have found someone to share these mundane yet intimate moments with. It was, of course, different from the feeling of love, for he was physically incapable of it. Rather, he was filled with newfound confidence, mirth, and contentment over finally being seen, appreciated, and respected.

“Thank you,” he told Janus one day as they viewed the stars outside his window.

Janus needed not to ask what the thanks was for, but said, “You have a _horrid_ smile. No wonder you don’t show it often.”

Logan flushed once again at the compliment. “If I could, I would have fallen in love with you long ago.”

It was a split second, but Logan did not fail to notice the soft blush on Janus’s cheeks. “I _cannot_ say that I share the same sentiment.”

Logan lifted his hand to gently caress the scales of Janus’s face and felt warmth rise to his chest when Janus leaned ever so slightly to his touch.

“This whole ordeal has been _detestable_ ,” Janus murmured.

Logan knew. It was the greatest truth he’s ever come to know.

“Kiss me,” Logan said timidly, sullenly.

And Janus did.

**Author's Note:**

> Janus's song: "Change" by Lana Del Rey, from his playlist by Thomas Sanders.


End file.
